


a whirlpool that subverts my drowning

by tillloveburnusall



Category: WAYV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Character Study, Happy Ending, M/M, Some brief discussions about drugs, Ten is a guitarist, Yangyang is in love, so he fucks up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:48:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25232680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tillloveburnusall/pseuds/tillloveburnusall
Summary: Yangyang wishes they were just a night stand.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Liu Yang Yang
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	a whirlpool that subverts my drowning

**Author's Note:**

> I'm exhausted, maybe i'll write proper notes tomorrow. 
> 
> Read the tags, enjoy.

Yangyang is aware that he doesn't belong here. 

His expensive leather shoes weren’t made to step on such a dirty floor, his silky shirt wasn’t sewn to be polluted by the puffs of weed blown in his direction. Yangyang wasn’t made to walk around the wolves, he was raised fragile and sweet, a good obedient child. 

But just like his shoes are handling the pressure quite well and his shirt is shining as new despite the old texture of the decaying coach he’s leaning against, Yangyang is much more than what he was made to be.

A girl with blonde locks kisses him. Her tongue circles the arch of his mouth, in search of something between his teeth that she won’t find. When they split, Yangyang is breathless but the girl doesn’t even blink, not affected in the slightest.

“Sorry, you were chewing so I thought you had…” _Pills,_ Yangyang finishes inside his head. He doesn’t mind the kiss, but it could be in better terms.

“Gum.” He answers, shrugging.

She nods before disappearing between the multiple bodies that are moving instinctively in Kun’s living room, he stays there, watching as her blonde strands become golden dust in the middle of all the contrasting shades of colors.

He’s not drunk, he could be, but he’s not. His senses are wired up and he feels like screaming his lungs out or maybe punching something. He shouldn’t be here. 

The LED lights make his head hurt. They are Hendery’s favorites, if he’s not wrong, he thinks that he already saw them hanging from the wall of his bedroom in one of their hook-ups. But that was a long time ago, before Xiaojun and Lucas, before…

“Yangyang!” Sicheng’s voice somehow transcends the thundering noise coming from the speakers and he rolls his eyes as the taller man finds his way to him through the waves of people. “Kun said you wouldn't come.”

Sicheng has a red cup on his hands, but his grip around it is light and Yangyang fears the moment it slips out of his grasp; Kun would probably murder him.

“I wasn't.” He agrees half-heartedly, taking the cup from Sicheng’s hand and drinking it all in one go. It burns his tongue, running down his throat like knives and making him feel like he’s floating all at once. When he puts the cup down, Sicheng is looking at him with a smirk on his lips. “But I wanted to see you guys play.”

"He thinks you're mad at him," Sicheng states, abruptly, and there's something in the way he says it, the taunting undertone, that makes Yangyang bounce in the balls of his feet anxiously. "What you're doing here, Yang?"

These are one of the rare moments Yangyang feels conscious about the fact that they don't know each other for too long. Kun, Sicheng, Dejun, Xuxi… None of them will stand with him on this one. 

He doesn't really mind, he still has Hendery and that's more than enough. He smiles at Sicheng, showing his pearly white teeth.

"I already answered this, Cheng." The words roll on his tongue and he suppresses the urge to laugh when Sicheng sighs. "I wanted to see him play."

***

Yangyang is eighteen when he hears Apollo for the first time. 

He is drinking Margaritas legally for the first time in his life in a cheap bar with his classmates, when the first guttural notes coming from a high-end guitar rings on his ears. It makes his heart race and before he can even notice, he’s already drumming his fingers against the wooden table, copying the rhythm. 

It's when he looks at the stage, though, that his breath hitches and the world surrounding him crumbles to the ground. 

Suddenly, the college guy with his hand resting on Yangyang’s inner thigh is not so arousing anymore and the girl with nice lips that touches him more than necessary, not so exciting. 

It’s the man standing on the stage that has all his attention, the man with nails tainted with black polish that strum diligently the instrument hanging from the strap around his neck, the man with dark eyes that aren’t staring at anyone in particular but everything they have to offer him. 

At that moment, the man is nothing less than a deity, and Yangyang a hell of a prayer.

The band plays two more songs and when his classmates tell him they’re going to a club, he just waves them goodbye, not paying much attention, barely noticing when the guy from before gives him a peck on his cheek. 

It’s not like he’s a monster or a heartless asshole, he enjoys holding hands, kissing without second intentions and movie dates but right now there’s nothing, or no one, that he likes more than the guy drinking beer three tables from him.

Yangyang watches him, ordering sodas and lime water. They don’t talk that night, Yangyang can’t think of a reason good enough to find his way between a bunch of tattooed guys and the guitarist seems to be too occupied by the tall guy sitting on his lap to notice Yangyang’s prying glances.

In all honesty, he kind of likes it. Not because of the guy, but from where he’s sitting he can see how the guitarist's grip is strong around the man’s waist, how his hands entangled in the other’s hair carelessly, pulling hard. 

And although he wouldn’t call himself a voyeur, in a few minutes he’s rushing back home, trying his best to hide a boner. 

He just goes to the bar again three weeks later, this time accompanied by Hendery, his best friend and the only person besides him that would wear shoes that cost nine hundred dollars in a place that the most expensive thing is the owner’s golden canine. 

Again, he finds the members of the band sitting in the same table from the last time, with the difference that the guitarist is nowhere to be seen. 

He’s looking around when Hendery comes back from getting them drinks, along with the band’s bassist, Lucas.

“Hendery said that you’re a fan?” The guy asks and Yangyang almost slaps Hendery right there. 

He’s listened to them just once and he can’t remember a single thing about what they were singing, just that in a particular song the guitarist’s shirt riled up enough for him to see the start of a black tattoo. He could probably hum the melody if he concentrated, that counted, right?

“Kind of.” He answers and it’s ready to leave it like this when an idea pops on his mind, in a false joking tone, he says, “I think the guitarist stole my heart.”

Lucas laughs, a cute sound that doesn’t match his height nor does his muscles but maybe he’s just sticking to stupid stereotypes, who knows. “I hope you’re talking about Ten, Kun is not the type to share.”

He curses at himself. _Fuck, how can you be so dumb? They have two guitarists, idiot._ Luckily, Hendery is better at this than him.

“Kun is the guitarist?” 

“No, he’s the keyboardist. He and Sicheng kind of have a thing going on.” The bassist replies and then rolls his eyes, almost making Hendery melt on the floor if the way he licks his lips are something. Yangyang is both amused and disgusted. “I forgot you don’t know the band yet.”

“I’m the bassist, Xiaojun is the drummer, Kun you already know and then there’s Sicheng and Ten, the guitarists.” He smiles and Yangyang almost hits a table when Hendery, honest to god, _coos_ at him. The guy must be used to weirdos because he barely blinks. “Sicheng is the guy that was with me before.”

“The tall one?” His friend asks, seeming to be actually interested and Yangyang leans forward too, attentive. 

“Yup!” Lucas answers, drawing the ‘p’. “Ten is the short one.”

Yangyang tunes off. He doesn’t really care for Hendery’s poor flirt tentatives, the guy’s clearly interested in him and if he doesn’t hurt his best friend, Yangyang wishes them nothing more than a good fuck. _And_ holding hands after, ‘cause he knows that Hendery is the type.

Actually, he’s thinking about the guitarist’s name. _Ten_ , he wonders where it came from, what he did to deserve being called a Ten, what…

He’s so distracted that he doesn’t notice where he’s going until he bumps against someone. He's already starting a blithe apology when his eyes meet with the person he collided with. 

He finds eyes like a pool of black ink, the same ink that is permanent on the left side of his neck in the shape of a snake with bright green eyes. 

He still tries saying something, maybe apologizing properly but the words get lost even before he can process them, he feels numb, the tip of his tongue tingling and his ears feeling hot all of sudden. It surprises him when he understands what he’s feeling, _embarrassment._

Before he can feel even more embarrassed for being embarrassed - if that makes any sense - Lucas, lovely and life savior Lucas, steps in, pushing Ten’s shoulder lightly. 

“Where the hell you’ve been, man?” He asks and Yangyang expects Ten to look at Lucas but he just shrugs, not taking his eyes from him for a second. 

Normally, the prolonged eye contact would make him smug, he got the attention he wanted, he won. With Ten though, he feels intimidated, like he got what he deserved but not what he wanted, and oh, he likes it so much. 

Lucas whistles, a shit-eating grin growing on his face, “Kun is going to kill you.”

***

Yangyang finds Hendery in the kitchen, sitting on the floor and staring at the fridge like just the fact it's standing there it's offending his whole existence. 

“Where’s Dejun?” He asks, not minding at all how the other winces just at hearing the name. 

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” The brunette replies, still not looking at him in the eye. Yangyang sighs. “Whatever. What are you doing here?”

 _Never beating around the bush_ , he thinks, almost laughing to himself. “What’s up with everyone asking me this?” 

“Well, you told Kun that you wouldn’t come and he told us, so…” Hendery shrugs, lifting a beer that he hadn’t seen before like some type of reward. “Besides, Ten came back looking like the protagonist of a bad drama after the object of his love rejects him, and you can play innocent on them but I know you long enough to know that this mess is your fault, so yeah, fucking forgive me for thinking that you wouldn’t show up.”

It should shock him. Hendery doesn’t usually speak to him like this, besides, they are best friends and he’s used to both of them having each other's back no matter what is going on, but somehow he’s not really surprised, he kind of figured that shit wouldn’t be always like when they were teenagers. Time to grow up, he guesses.

“Are you learning to be a fucking asshole with uncle, Dery?” He asks, leaning towards the other, smiling when he can feel their breathing tangling. “Or I am the one at fault?”

They stare at each other, Hendery’s eyes are like a fire burning low, no log to fuel it but not weak enough to cease. Yangyang knows which buttons to push so he receives the reaction he wants but Hendery is a ticking-bomb, they all know, so he walks away.

“I saw Xuxi when I was coming here.” He says, stopping at the kitchen’s door, voice even. “Don’t do this to yourself, Guanheng. Whatever you _think_ you saw, deserves an explanation.” 

Hendery nods, still staring at the fridge, blinking so the tears pooling at the edge of his eyes won't fall, the effect is reverse it seems. And if Yangyang was a better friend he would’ve stayed and said it’s okay, that he isn’t angry with him. But he is, he’s fucking pissed and he may be a cynic son of a bitch but he never lied to his best friend before, he won’t start now.

***

His back is hitting the bathroom wall even before the door is closed.

Ten’s hands are everywhere, under his shirt, between the strands of his hair, around his waist, every inch of his skin has been touched by the guitarist's cold fingers and Yangyang is one feet from losing his goddamn mind. 

“I saw you, you know?” Ten’s voice is husky and Yangyang is not sure whether he wants him to shut up and kiss him already or just keep talking. “That first night, last year, before you came with that bullshit about being a fan.”

Yangyang halts, his eyes growing bigger as he sees the amusement crackling inside Ten’s eyes. 

“I wasn't watching you.” He says, panicking.

“Never said you were, baby.” Ten whispers against his lips before, finally, kissing him. 

And Yangyang doesn’t really mind being tricked, not when he can feel the adoration in the way he’s laid on the sink, when he can see the pure devotion in Ten’s eyes when Yangyang goes on his knees for him, not when they are so connected and he feels so full that his mind is painted by all the colors of this same person. 

He can’t help but moan loudly, scream when he wants to, because it doesn't matter how degrading the place is, how rude and edging the savagery their movements are, he wants all of it. 

He wants everything that he can have because Ten is always hungry and Yangyang is not exactly a giver so they need to watch out for each other or they can completely destroy themselves in this stupid chasing game that he created and Ten complied. 

It’s such a dangerous thing to do. His parents warned him about Ten’s type, maybe because they had fallen for someone like him in Yangyang’s age and parent’s biggest fear is that their kid will follow the same mistake they made, but he doesn’t really care. He doesn’t think his parents are wrong, Ten is definitely not in for the conventional path, but they aren’t quite right either. 

Because Ten is not just a broke kid who has listened to too much old school rock discos and now thinks he can take over the world. He _is_ a broke kid indeed, and he _did_ listen to a lot of old school rock but he also works his ass off in a shady restaurant all weekend just so he can pay his grandparent’s nursing home and give his mom some rest in Thailand and he also got a full scholarship because the guy is simply a genius. 

And Ten is gentle. His way of showing affection is much more subtle than Hendery’s, who just loves to hold hands and touch people as much as they give consent, and still much more present than his dad’s, that avoids human contact as they could burn him. 

Ten can listen for hours, even about boring stuff like a fight with his classmates or complicated shit like his mother having an affair. He just sits there and listens to him babble about how much he hates when people scream at him for not understanding things the way everyone does. 

Ten also lets him use his body as a distraction when he doesn’t want to communicate with words.

He lets Yangyang ride him till he can’t feel his legs anymore and scratch his back until it’s bleeding and they need to stop because Yangyang’s crying so hard that there’s no mood to keep going. It’s not healthy and they should stop, but they won’t.

Because there’s nothing more screwing and addictive than love and it’s almost anticlimactic when he notices. He had committed all the mistakes his parents had warned him against and he had fallen in love.

And Ten? Well, Ten is just too gentle.

***

It’s always strange for Yangyang how much Kun loves pastel and soft colors when he dresses on his daily bases as a 90’s movie delinquent. 

He finds him in the garage, setting the instruments and organizing things that only he cares about. Sometimes, he thinks that the only reason they live in this house is because of the garage. 

They already told him and Hendery how they end up living in a house way too good for their pockets, but he can’t recall much, just that Xuxi’s mom was going back to China, Dejun’s ex-roommate was a homophobic pig and Sicheng and Kun just wanted to have space enough to raise a cat together. Somehow they got a house big enough to fit all of them.

“Do you want help?” He asks softly, not wanting to scare the other and Kun looks up at him, his bangs covering his eyes before he sweeps them to the side. 

“Always,” Kun answers with a chuckle.

He holds on one side of the bass drum as Kun holds the other and they carry it to the improvised stage. Yangyang keeps putting the drum together while Kun tunes the guitar in one of the wood benches that Ten painted last summer. _These_ he remembers how they come to end up here, though. 

Dejun found them all piled up behind a dumpster and for some reason, decided that he was going to find some use for them. Kun wanted to throw it away, but Ten stepped in, saying that they could use benches and took them home with him. 

Three days later he appeared with seven benches painted with diverse colors and a different drawing in each of them. 

He thinks that that was the day he fell in love. Dejun found four benches, but Ten bought three more just so all of them could have one. 

It was a simple gesture, small and out of pure friendship. Something that in money value could never beat Yangyang’s expensive colognes, trips, and cars but that still meant more than anything else in the world. Ten meant more than anything else in the world.

“Why doesn't Ten live here? With you guys, I mean.” He asks suddenly, surprising even himself. 

Kun stops whatever he’s doing behind a shelf of vinyl discs so he can look at Yangyang and just as it happened with Sicheng earlier, he feels nervous, alone maybe. He can’t count on any of them. 

Not even Hendery, it seems.

He always thought he was alone, it’s quite stupid to realize that he was wrong just when he understands what being just by himself means.

“Ten can be really mean,” Kun says, not answering his question. “We all can. People like us are taught two things that we don’t forget.”

“If someone hurts you, hurt them back and if you love someone, keep them around by any means necessary.” Kun pulls one of the discs from the shelve and turns on the phonograph, soon ‘Have You Ever Seen The Rain’ is playing. “We all grew up with parents that worked harder than they earned, they had tough lives and knew that most of us would be just like them.”

“So, although we know that answering violence with violence doesn’t help at all and that loving someone goes beyond keeping them tied to you, it’s ingrained on us, you know?”

“I hate when Sicheng leaves in the middle of a fight because it scares me. There’s nothing besides love that keeps us together. We’re two broke college students that play in a literal garage band. What we are is the most precious thing we can offer to each other.” The other sighs and Yangyang notices for the first time that Kun is tired. Exhausted, actually. He must be taking night classes again, so he can work in the morning. 

“And one day that can be not enough for him anymore. Or for me, maybe.” Kun breathes deeply. “So, sometimes, when we’re really scared, we’re cruel to each other. Because that’s what was taught to us. I’d never hurt Cheng physically and it’s the same with him, but I can’t say that I didn’t hurt him emotionally.”

“What I’m trying to say is, whatever Ten said to you, he meant it.” Kun stares at him, but he’s eyes show no ill intent, he’s not trying to scare him, just telling the truth. “But it was never meant to _you_.”

They stay silent, then. Yangyang processing everything he heard and Kun finally finished with the guitar. 

He thinks about Ten. About all the versions he had met of him. The funny guy that knows how to lighten the mood, the worst drinker between all of them, the dedicated son, the always present friend, and the fiery lover.

 _“You can play innocent on them but I know you long enough to know that this mess is your fault_ ” 

Hendery’s words rings on his ears like a distant ballad and he feels like puking. He doesn’t deserve this, he doesn’t deserve Kun’s worry. 

“Ten was everything but cruel with me, Kun.” He says, quietly, staring at Dejun’s new pair of drumsticks. “He was... _Gentle_.”

 _And it feels off._ He almost tells this to Kun, but the other cuts him off.

“You know what I think?” Yangyang nods, even though he’s sure it was a rhetorical question. “I think that both of you have a really fucked up understanding of what love is.”

Kun’s smile makes his eyes look like half-moons. Yangyang likes it. “About the house, you should ask him, he can tell you much better than me.”

***

Yangyang can feel Ten’s eyes on him.

Junho kisses him harder, trapping him between his body and the table. Yangyang hates it. He hates this guy, he hates this kiss and he hates himself. 

He kisses back. 

He doesn’t know what exactly he was expecting but Ten does nothing, no reaction, he just stares, even when Yangyang looks into his eyes. They are dark as always, empty as never.

Eventually, he disentangles himself from the guy’s grip, ignoring all the questions. At first, he wants to run, but Ten is there, staring at the empty Budweiser hanging between his fingers, and he finds himself walking towards the other. 

“Hey.” He doesn’t believe in apologies. When you fuck up is done and nothing can reverse it, much less two simple words. But now, he wonders if asking for forgiveness would make Ten look at him, with hate maybe, but still, he can’t stand indifference. No, not from Ten.

“Hendery told me about your dad.” Ten’s voice is shallow and he doesn’t take his eyes off the bottle. “I’m sorry, Yang.”

It feels like he’s drowning, his breath hitches and his lungs are working against him. He opens his mouth, but his eyes burn when he does so he closes them again, letting out a sharp breath, he blinks repeatedly. 

Yangyang knows how to hurt people. That’s what he does as best, it’s what reminds him that he’s not defenseless. But Ten doesn’t hurt him and surely doesn’t deserve to be hurt but Yangyang is always tiptoeing around the edge, between being a good friend and an enemy, a good son and a deserter. 

Today, he can choose between being a lover or a traitor. 

“Are you?” The bottle between Ten’s fingers slips, not enough to fall on the floor, but barely hanging from his fingertips. “Better yet, why would you? Because we fucked? That’s not enough of a reason.”

Once, a long time ago, Yangyang’s grandma told him that every person has a breaking point. That it doesn’t matter how long they think they can keep a mask, one day it will fall and it is on this day that you’ll know who you really are. 

“Are you in love with me?” He whistles, mocking. “Well, you already saw what happened. Want to keep on?”

The words burn him, and he tries to keep the sarcastic smile on his face, but it’s hard and he notices too late that he’s already crying. 

“I am.” Ten answers and Yangyang chokes on his own tears. _This should not be happening,_ he thinks to himself, but he just sits there, staring at Ten. 

For the first time since he left Junho, their eyes meet and there’s something indecipherable in Ten’s, he can’t know if it’s hurt or deception, just two black holes staring at him, no hint of light inside them, only pure sheer darkness. 

“What? You thought I would lie? Like you do?” Ten smirks and it’s horrifying, like someone sewed it on his face. “No, I’m not like that.” 

Yangyang bites his lips, “So you realized it? That I’m just a trap? How it feels, Tennie?”

He wants to stop. _God_ , how much he wants to stop, but he can’t. They need to end this, for good this time. 

“It feels like you’re trying to break my heart, baby.” 

Yangyang smiles, his hands are shaking and there’s a lump on his throat that he can’t get rid of. He gets up. 

“You’re too gentle, Ten.” It doesn't sound like a compliment. It sounds like an accusation. “There was no way for me to not fall for you.”

He walks away. A bottle crashes against the floor. 

***

Yangyang ends up in the garden. He’s not sure why he is here, the band is playing now, this is his chance to talk things out with Ten, yet here he is. Sitting on the grass, playing with Xuxi’s petunias. 

The only things he feels in the moment is prolonged dread that is always following him around. Yangyang tries to remember the last time he followed his instincts and everything went fine. 

He wishes they had fireflies, he saw them once when he was a child and never again. He was seven and his parents still loved each other. He’s not sure what changed, but one day the fireflies were gone, his mother started sleeping in the guest room and his dad began to just come home on weekends. 

When they are together it’s always the same, screaming, throwing things and slamming doors. 

Maybe they should’ve let it go. He thinks about what Kun said earlier and wonders if his parents weren’t so tied by money, if they would stop hurting each other and hurting him. He feels ungrateful thinking like that, a bunch of kids with divorced parents would do anything to have them together.

I mean, better have a father in rehab and a mother who can’t stand looking at your face than having to choose between your parents on holidays, am I right? 

He wants to cry, but there’s no tears left to shed so he just keeps plucking the petunia’s petals that had fallen on the ground while humming Fireflies from Owl City. 

“What is it about?” Ten’s voice comes from behind him and he almost breaks his neck turning his head. 

“What is it what about what?” He asks.

Ten chuckles, “The song.”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I just wanted to have something to remind me of fireflies.”

Ten nods, sitting beside him and Yangyang notices that his hair is wet and he smells like the fruit aromatized soaps that Sicheng is obsessed with.

“I read a book once, about a girl that collected music about fireflies.” 

“What happened to her?”

“She killed herself, before the beginning of the book actually.” Ten plays with one of the petunias, “We read through the perspective of her friend.”

“It looks... nice?” He says tentatively, because it’s not his type of literature and he's quite sure that it is not Ten’s either. 

“It sucks.” Ten replies, dryly, making Yangyang laugh. 

His laughter just gets harder when Ten messes with his hair, his hand running from the top of his head till they are resting around his neck. It just gets higher, distorted as he notices that he can’t stop, hysterical. His lips get dry and his voice starts to croak but still takes two or three minutes for him to calm down.

“I’m sorry.” It’s the first time he apologizes for hurting someone. It’s not a big deal, but it feels like it is. 

“It’s okay, you didn’t write the book.” Ten answers, his hand still around Yangyang’s neck. It’s a distraction and maybe Yangyang should thank him for it, just accept the peace offer, but he doesn’t want their relationship to become this, distractions instead of real communication. 

He doesn’t want them to become cheap copies of his parents. 

“I should've talked to you.” Inside the house behind them, someone screams Ten’s name, they both ignore it. “I see my dad once a month nowadays but still, he is _dad_.”

He plays with his fingers, his shoulders tensioning, and his vision blurries but he doesn’t stop. 

“He watched my first school play, he took me to violin classes, he read me bedtime stories.” Some strands of his hair fall on his eyes, he lets them be. “And what I did in return? Let him have an OD in a stupid apartment that I wasn’t even aware of.” 

“I was so fucking mad at myself.” His breathing scatters and he needs to inhale before speaking again. “And I thought ‘I should talk to Ten’ so I call Dejun to know where you are and he tells me about your grandfather’s death.”

“So I think ‘He’s just playing with me’ because I have to make everything about me, haha.” He laughs but it sounds as dry as he intended to. “It doesn’t matter that you’re in pain or that you just didn’t felt like sharing, it’s ‘Yangyang time’ all the time, right?’”

"I went to the bar and saw you there and decided that I needed to show you that I’m not a child and then I go and kiss that guy." 

"So, yeah, I’m sorry.” He finishes.

“You need a better coping mechanism, Yangs.” Ten’s voice is dull and it cuts through him like a knife. “You don’t need to ask me sorry for kissing that guy when we weren’t even a thing in the first place, you know that.”

“My grandfather died and I could have talked to you, but I didn’t.” He says. “Because I don’t talk about stuff like that with other people, but if you asked, I would talk to you.”

“For God's Sake, Yang. I would talk about anything with you. But you chose to transform all this in a soap opera instead of just telling me what the fuck was wrong.” Ten runs his hand over his hair and Yangyang can see the all exasperation on his face. “You don’t want to be treated like a child, don’t fucking act like one.”

He ends there, leaving silence to hang between them. Yangyang is the one to cut it.

“Thanks for being honest with me.” He says softly. 

It’s different like this, knowing that Ten screams, answers back and fights back. It feels real.

Ten sighs again, but he doesn’t look so drained anymore. “You're a handful, kid.” 

He laughs, because he can see everything again. He can feel the pressure when Ten’s pulls him to his lap, the coldness of Ten’s rings against his hot skin, under his shirt. It’s like always been, but not quite.

“Hm, I am.” He whispers against Ten’s lips, smiling. “And so are you.”

They’ll be fine.

**Author's Note:**

> No, you guys won't know why Ten doesn't live with the band, ha.
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/heathown/)


End file.
